


My Queen

by GoldGravesShip



Category: Alien: Covenant
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alien Planet, Character Death, Drunk Sex, F/M, Love, Male Solo, Mutual Masturbation, Rough Sex, Sex, Sex in Space, Synthetic, Wall Sex, Weyland Industries, Weyland-Yutani, android sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-16 15:33:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11255829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldGravesShip/pseuds/GoldGravesShip
Summary: Walter has been designed to serve and protect and after the death of her husband, Daniels Branson seeks solace in the arms of a synthetic who knows her every biologic need and desire and has vowed to protect her no matter the danger.





	1. Imprinting Daniels

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first stab at the Alien universe. I adore Prometheus, Alien/Aliens, and while I feel like much of the plot was omitted still enjoyed Covenant a lot. I love Walter/Daniels and hope that you enjoy this story. It's muli-chapter, but I'm already on chapter six. I hope to post every Tuesday, so check in and be sure to comment and give feedback.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write about the first meeting of Walter with Daniels and her husband establishing his desire to protect and service from the start.

Walter adjusted the string around his hoodie making sure that each side evenly distributed in length. He favored a dark gray wardrobe when given the option to choose, but navy would do for now. Synthetics varied in abilities and freedoms; he modeled as a caregiver for a colonization ship. They had vetted various other Walters before selecting him as the one Walter for Mother and her colony of humans and embryos headed to Origae-6 on the USCSS Covenant.

 

Today was the day he met his crew, his assigned humans, and began to live a life of meaning—though he still admittedly questioned the reasoning’s of his existence beyond that, he was forbidden to seek out the knowledge on his own, even if it were only a code adjustment away. He asked a pregnant vetting woman the reason for himself once and nearly didn’t pass the application process.

 

He recalled the frightened expression she gave him. He watched as she pawed at her rounded belly and rather than apologizing he still wondered why he hadn’t come from within a woman’s womb or even the human birthing laboratories for that matter.

 

He bowed his head in apology as she typed furiously into her tablet. It must be something in the programming of previous models. The years of widespread violence within the synthetic community had waned, and while there was still the occasional flare up, Walters were calm and loving models. He would certainly be that to his crew anyway.

 

“Welcome, sir.” Walter bowed his head and extended a hand to Commander Branson. Branson didn’t notice as he looked back over his shoulder one last time before stepping up the tall metal platform into the cargo hold.

 

Jacob Brandon was a tall and lean man with wild hair. Walter examined his overall look from the knot he had tied his hair back to at the base of his neck to the straggly beard that was a bit long and wiry for his taste. Walter noted that for a leader of so many humans, Jacob Branson had perhaps made a poor choice in facial growth. He wouldn’t doubt the man to his face, and Walter knew he would grow to understand the decision behind the beard once he found the opportunity to ask about it, perhaps strangled and unkempt was the look of every man on this ship.

 

Branson paused, his posture tense as he looked down at Walter’s gesture to shake hands. Walter gauged Jacob’s reaction carefully as the man wriggled his lips before pressing them into a thin line of utter displeasure. “What model synthetic is this?” Jacob barked his tone firm and authoritative he turned away from Walter, brushing his hand aside.

 

Walter watched as Commander Branson looked back at several lab techs in stark white suits. Two men and a woman stood in height order their faces covered by white mesh masks. Nametags had barcodes for clearance access rather than labeling them by name. It was meant to prevent a synthetic from imprinting on their creators rather than their assigned humans. It must have worked, Walter didn’t care for them much.

 

“Excuse me, did any of you hear me?” Jacob held his arms up wide before pointing to Walter’s face. “What model synthetic is this?” Jacob watched Walter carefully from the corner of his hazel eyes.

 

One tech whispered to another while the shorter of the three clutched a glass tablet tight to their chest. Walter could hear them discuss the commander’s displeasure while the short one, a female, suggested they remove Walter immediately without even answering Jacob’s question.

 

“I’m Walter,” said Walter.

 

The techs froze looking to Walter before they all nodded in unison. “He’s vetted, programmed, and triple cleared for maximum efficiency and safety,” she held up a performance display before offering it to Jacob. “There’s nothing to worry about, here, see for yourself,” she affirmed.

 

“He looks just like a first-generation David,” Branson leaned in and examined a small chip above Walter’s left eyebrow. The carefully carved lettering for Weyland Yutani barely visible brought some sort of ease to Jacob. His shoulders relaxed as if the chip were a protective shield.

 

Walter curved his lips up into a toothy smile keeping his eyes locked on Jacob. “I assure you, sir, I’m here to protect and serve the crew. I’ll maintain the ship and keep everyone under strict and safe observation, especially during deep sleep.” With care, Walter reached up and placed a supportive hand on Branson’s right shoulder giving an appropriate squeeze.

 

Jacob pushed Walter's hand away and examined where Walter had squeezed. It was as if a bird had taken a shit on his shoulder. Walter wasn’t sure how imprinting to a crew commander worked, but he felt that Jacob was doing it incorrectly.

 

“Thank you, Walter.” Spoke a quiet, feminine voice.

 

“Daniels Brandon,” Walter spoke and shifted his stance to examine a tall, thin woman who approached from behind Commander Branson. “Would you like to be addressed as Missus Branson?” he asked.

 

Walter’s words were so genuine and sweet that she giggled. Jacob rolled his eyes, and she gave her husband a playful smack on the back. She bowed her head politely her short brown hair fell gently into his face. Walter looked to Jacob and then to Daniels and determined that he was hardly a genetic match for her, but Walter wasn’t human, so it didn’t make much sense for him to focus on such things.

 

Daniels Branson stood at the height of her husband with a beautiful cadence to her walk. Her flight suit was tied tight behind her back accentuating her waistline and chest. Despite her thin frame and grace, she had a fit build a climber's body or a runner perhaps. While Mother was arguably the ruler of them all, at that moment Walter affirmed that Daniels Branson would be his queen.

 

Something stirred within Walter, and his programming adjusted accordingly. He listened as the masked lab techs whispered something about imprint success. Had he just imprinted on the commander’s wife rather than the leader of the mission itself? Did this mean he would be deactivated and removed from the mission? If they tried to remove him, he feared it might cause more harm than good. Walter pushed the swell of what humans might describe as anxiety aside and took a deep, meaningful sigh, as he extended a hand to shake with her.

 

Daniels stepped past his hand and was suddenly close, very close—closer than any other human had been to him aside from the techs who performed body assembly checks on him. Walter closed his eyes as he felt her long arms wrap around him. She tugged him forward into a welcoming embrace. “It’s so nice to meet you, Walter. Just call me Daniels.” She reached up onto her tiptoes. Her left hand found the base of his neck her fingertips grazed the freshly trimmed hair on his head. Her right hand rested into the dip of Walter’s collarbone. He looked down as she gave the string of his hoodie a playful tug making it uneven. “Never call me Mrs. Branson, it makes me think of my mother-in-law…and no one wants that.” Walter’s ear twitched, and he leaned in allowing her lips to graze his lobe. It felt nice, but more so he wanted to know why the woman who birthed the commander must be spoken about in whispers.

 

“Gloria would be _so_ offended,” Jacob teased.

 

With a loving motion, the commander tugged at the knots in Daniels' bodysuit before taking hold of her hand and pulling away from Walter.

 

Walter bent down and picked up a large metal basket filled with glass bottles of water and offered it to her and the commander. “Would you like water, sir?” he offered two, so he could give one to Daniels. “They have engineered the water to replace the nutrients you’ll lose while in deep space." He gestured to the label.

 

“Engineered water?” Commander Branson gawked at the bottles and then glared toward the lab techs, annoyed.

 

Daniels took two and winked at him, her smile bright showcasing her perfectly natural teeth. He noted that she had a small scar on her chin and three minor burns on her left hand, one hidden by her wedding band.

 

“Please, let me know if there is anything I can do for you," he smiled at Daniels. “I live to serve, and know we can be sure friends.” Walter gripped the basket a bit tighter, imitating the hugging motion.

 

Commander Branson arched his eyebrows, scoffing as he walked into the cargo hold headed toward the lifts that would take them to their rooms.

 

“Sure friends, Walter!” He jested, wrapping a playful arm around the waistline of his wife and tugging her against him. Walter looked outside as several more crew members approached. He pulled the basket tight wondering if he was hugging it correctly. Walter would never take hold of a human in that way unless instructed to—even if he now wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment and feedback, please! :)


	2. Alcohol Prohibited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some backstory to Jacob and Daniels to help you understand his treatment of Walter.  
> Everyone is drinking and disobeying Commander's orders...everyone's laughing at Walter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, thank you, everyone, for your excitement and enjoyment of My Queen. I cannot even begin to thank you all for the comments and feedback!

Daniels fell in love with her husband’s humor and wide-eyed smile practically at first sight. He won her over though with the genuine kindness and the compassion he shared with the world. He had grown up in the middle of the synthetic uprising and had suffered family loss, but despite his hardships, saw the goodness in people and the world—in non-synthetic things.

 

They lived in a small one-bedroom apartment in old Boulder, Colorado. Daniels moved there from Philadelphia for her agricultural engineering research. Jacob managed several non-profit research organizations, and through those ventures, they met when friends convinced Daniels to try rock climbing. He teased her the whole weekend about how terrible she was at it, but he didn’t mean it, she was a natural. He walked her home from a bar that night and had been walking her home ever since.

 

A philanthropist to his core, Jacob Branson jumped at the opportunity to begin the vigorous application process for crew qualifications on the latest series of planet colonization missions. Not only would this be a chance for him and Daniels, but a place where he could really make a change and bring good to a new world.

 

The government ordered seven new missions helmed by Weyland Industries. They argued for the first time in ages over that application. Jacob wasn’t fond of governmental regulations or Weyland—especially Weyland—but money was tight, Earth wasn’t ideal for family prospects, and this was an opportunity to own a large swath of land. They would be historical figures in a new world, their world.

 

Daniels was indifferent about the topic for several days after their argument, but she could never stay mad at Jacob. They loved each other endlessly. Love that stretched hundreds of light years as it turned out. She honestly didn’t expect her sweet husband to skyrocket to the top of the line in his division.

 

“They want me to lead my very own mission!” He boasted as he scrolled his index finger along the glass display panel showing his high scoring test results. “Obviously, they want us both, and you’d start training and preparations next week.” He placed a supportive hand on her leg and squeezed. The cold sensation of his wedding band against her thigh burned through her as the weight of his words sank in. Without looking, he carefully dragged his fingers up, slipping his fingers under the lace edges of her nightgown. She loved when he did that; it felt electric every time—even then—at that life altering moment.

 

Daniels sat on the edge of their bed in dark thought. “Your mission,” she started and then took pause. “Jake, we will have to say goodbye to everyone we know on Earth,” she frowned, “Good luck explaining this one to my dad.” He rocked sideways smacking himself into her shoulder as she let her eyes scan over their bedroom.

 

He had hand painted a mural of mountains and a large crater lake that spilled from the base of the wall onto the wooden floor leading to their bathroom. He had surprised her with it on their third anniversary when she returned from a weekend trip with her girlfriends. Girlfriends who she’d never see again. Girlfriends whose children would be in college or have kids of their own by the time they arrived in their new world.

 

“So, you think space is too wild for us?” He rolled onto his back like a submissive puppy and nestled his head into her lap. “I’m not going to lie. The guys at the testing center all agree you’d be the hottest mother of a little Martian brood.” He playfully nipped at her belly through her nightgown.

 

“Origaens,” she corrected him before tangling her fingers into his thick hair.

 

Jacob turned his head away and bit her inner thigh. With a quiet hum, he rolled over and dotted kisses from her bellybutton leading lower and lower until she tugged at his hair in protest.

 

“You’re awful for doing this now.” She pushed him back.

 

“We are giving this damned planet some hope, Dani.” He sat up on his knees and pulled her into his lap. “During break today, I started designing a house, our home. I’ll show it to you in the morning.” He pushed his nose under her jawline giving himself access to her neck.

 

“Do you think there will still be an Earth by the time we get to Origae-6?” She straddled him and dragged her fingers down his back as he began a delicate assault on her neck.

 

“Don’t over think it, Dani.” He whispered into her ear as he pushed her back onto the bed and kissed her deeply. Something stirred in her that night as he brought her close. A worry in the back of her mind like an itch you can’t quite scratch.

 

Jacob was an attentive lover and was no different that night. He focused on her needs moaning breathless thanks for her selflessness and her love as he enveloped her in his warm and passionate embrace.

 

* * *

 

Seven years passed in what seemed like no time at all. The training was challenging but rewarding, and preparations of the perfect accrued team took a while, but assembled beautifully in time for mission launch. Daniels accepted a position on the research and agricultural engineering team. Years of studying outer planets with satellites that took weeks to send communications back and forth through galaxies had paid off. They knew the core compositions of the world and had confirmed it for sure could sustain life with little to no terraforming required.

 

Jacob and Daniels had left their apartment weeks into training as did many of the families and crew. The facility was massive, and everyone was provided with a home larger than their one bedroom apartment. They loved looking up at the sky on clear nights. The telescopes allowed you a detailed view of the larger portion of Mother as she was being constructed just outside of Earth’s atmosphere.

 

“Dani, I moved our more personal treasures from the box to the truck,” Jacob hustled past her as he made his way to the door.

 

“Oh, that’s perfect.” She was all teeth as she loaded a glass display with videos and photographs. Messages from friends and family to remember them by—to remember their old life by.

 

“Tomorrow, babe.” He knelt down and kissed her cheek, giving her shoulders a supportive squeeze.

 

“Your shirt buttons are messed up.” She pointed to his dress shirt and poked a finger through the hole.

 

He adjusted the buttons, so several more were undone and winked at her as he rushed out the door. “I’ll be back in two hours!” He managed a wave and clambered down the metal staircase toward the meeting hall on the facility.

 

Two weeks ago, the families and friends of those leaving Earth had visited in a massive farewell party that made world news. Weyland paid for the travel and stay of every person that the crew and families invited.

 

Daniels’ father exterior a first-class ride on the bullet tunnel that stretched from northern New York to what remained of Oregon. The trip only took thirty minutes to make it to old Colorado. He hadn’t stopped talking about how smooth a ride it was or how wonderful the coffee had been.

 

“I’ll miss you, dad.” Daniels struggled to say as she hugged him tight taking in a deep breath and holding on to the memory of how he smelled. He couldn't go with her though. They had lost her mother to a car crash when Daniels was a teenager, he never remarried. Since the accident, Daniels was strong willed and rarely allowed herself to cry in front of him, but that day it was a struggle. Her face burned red as she fought the tears that glassed in her eyes.

 

“You better send transmissions of the grandchildren you give me.” Gloria, Jacob’s mother, wept freely into her son’s shirt. She was round with dyed vibrant red hair. A shade unnatural even to roses Daniels imagined.

 

“Ma, you’ll be the first on Earth to know about it, I promise.” Jacob kissed her on the cheek and squeezed her hand.

 

“She’ll be the second,” Daniels whispered to her father and winked.

 

“Did I read that there’s going to be a synthetic looking after you all while you sleep?” She patted Jacob’s hands.

 

“A Walter, yes.” Jacob lowered his head. “It will be all right.” He assured her.

 

“All right? It would be if you two staying here on Earth.” Gloria dropped her head. “All right would be your father and brother being alive.” She let go of Jacob and turned to Daniels.

 

“Dani, sweetheart, I know that you and your father are synthetic sympathizers, and I try to get past that. I’ve prayed on that a lot, but still cannot come to forgive those things. You better shut it down at the slightest sign of insubordination. Do you hear me?” She scowled at Daniels.

 

“Mom—“ Jacob placed a hand on his hip.

 

“No, Jake. This mission is for colonization, one you’re in charge of and under the name of the company who masterminded the things that murdered our family. Your family!” She choked back a sob. “Oh, my blood pressure.” She gasped and looked around for a seat.

 

Daniels’ father scooted an ottoman under Gloria’s legs as she fell back.

 

Gloria wasn’t a threatening woman, but her threat was warranted. She watched as an old third-generation synthetic killed her eldest son and husband while she and Jacob escaped into the sewer system on their street.

 

He told Daniels about it once. Said that they were down there for days with other families. Weyland admitted their blame and said the cause of the problem with a faulty system upgrade that gave their synthetics complete sentient freedoms. Many sought revenge on their owners who treated them with harsh words or abuse.

 

Weyland took drastic measures to correct the wrongs they created. With the aid of government, they blasted the cities with energy charges that took out power and electronics for miles. Jacob and Gloria still hid underground, too afraid to surface for fear of what awaited them.

 

Jacob still had nightmares of Gloria screaming as a synthetic pulled her out from the drain. Instead of killing her, it swaddled her close and apologized for the previous model’s actions. It tried to take Jacob by the hand, but he instead attacked it, tearing its throat open with a steak knife. He always questioned if that counted as committing murder.

 

Jacob grew up fast, and despite his dark past and hostility that she harbored toward the synthetics, he was grateful to Weyland for saving he and his mother, even if they ultimately caused the fatalities of thousands.

 

It took nearly fifteen years for Weyland to rebrand their name and their synthetics into trusting companions. The news still reported rumors or the occasional rogue incident, but they spent exuberant amounts of time and money vetting the David, generation one, two and three who launched with exploration vessels nearly a decade ago. With their great success, they created Walter and selected them for colony missions. Walter, unlike David, was heavily restricted in sentient freedoms and forbidden to trigger any harm to human life.

 

* * *

  

Jacob spent the day on their launch ship focused on his speech. The crew now welcomed onboard, he took Daniels, and the two went around inviting the launch crew to the mess hall for a final Earth meal. Walter tried to listen to Commander Branson’s welcoming speech—but had been instructed to stay out of the room and run diagnostics in the interim. He had completed them twice already that day, so he decided to listen from the exterior corridor instead.

 

There was a lot of laughter and an abundance of food. So much food. He calculated that it was more food than any of them could or would consume in the night. Their last Earth meal was a large feast that Weyland provided for them at no expense spared. They would have leftovers well into the next week until deep sleep started.

 

Weyland asked the crew to write down everything they wanted over the next week and had given an unreal supply of rare and delicately carved organic meats, farmed fish—because the oceans were too toxic—chocolate, ice cream, candies, an abundance of processed fast food, and the richest exotic coffees and teas.

 

While there would be food on Origae-6, the options were pretty sterile. Cucumbers, quinoa, and many nutrient rich vegetables, and fruits, but the delicious delicacies of Earth would be few and far between. If they were lucky the life on their new home world would be edible, but things would have to be tested many times over.

 

While the crew had been permitted to bring their own alcohol supply, Jacob forbid drinking in the presence of Walter, the commander himself, or during shift hours. Something about the safety of the crew in the presence of a synthetic. Walter had to admit that previous models did take advantage of their inebriated humans, so he didn’t blame Commander Branson for his strict ruling.

 

“Hey man, you drink?” Tennessee Faris asked Walter as he stepped out from the mess hall with his wife, Maggie. The man’s thick southern accent was the most distinct among the crew along with Maggie’s.

 

He slapped a wide and weathered hand on the synthetic’s back. The hands of a man who had helmed many space crafts. A man who had committed many crimes in his youth and someone who had dropped many disobedient synthetics with his bare hands.

 

Faris was a large human, not fat, just big all around. Walter was confident that with his upgrades he could take on the broad-shouldered man in a fight, but admittedly would find it a challenge—not that it would ever come to that. Walter loved his crew and hoped that they would come to trust and enjoy his presence.

 

“While I am capable, I don’t become inebriated as you would,” Walter said as he looked to Faris and returned the slap on his back, perhaps a bit more forceful. He retracted his hand immediately and placed it at his side.

 

“Well, I’ll be. Best believe I’ll bet on you in a shot challenge then!” He chuckled and took a small swig from a metal flask. “Maggie, darlin`,” he offered the container to his wife who took it gleefully. Walter’s eyebrows raised as he observed her finish the contents, shaking her thick curly hair and rolling her shoulders back.

 

“Tennessee Faris, what swill is this?” Maggie coughed it down.

 

“The last of the home brew.” Faris winked.

 

“Forgive me,” Walter stepped between them both and ran a hand from her head to her knees. “Maggie, your blood alcohol is bordering a dangerous level; would you like me to take you to sickbay?” He leaned forward to look Maggie directly in the eyes.

 

She kissed Walter on the cheek. “Is the sick bay in the bedroom?” She laughed.

 

“No. It’s down the hall.” He stated and pointed to the digital display. He took out a small light and shined it in her eyes, examining the dilatation.

 

“It’s a joke, Walter.” Tennessee grinned from ear to ear, retaking the flask.

 

“Her intoxication levels are…humorous?” Walter was baffled that a human could find such intoxication humorous. He stood straight as he thought over Faris’ words. He rationalized that Maggie’s drinking brought on intense elation, but that could not be the case for every human.

 

“No, the part about the sick bay.” He wrapped an arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “The sick bay is the bedroom, Walter.” He spoke in a dry explanatory voice.

 

Walter blinked, still unsure. “Only the commander has an emergent pod in their bedroom. Though once on Mother there will be access to others…”

 

“Innuendo, man. I’m going to go fuck my wife in our bed, Walter.” He blatantly stated. Exhausted by his own explanationpetitehe scooped up Maggie who let out a playful shriek.

 

There was a sudden commotion in the mess hall. Jacob stepped through the automatic door and glared at Walter a metal baton in his right hand was armed and ready for use. Electrified, it would immobilize Walter for a short time allowing them to manually shut him down.

 

“Jake, no,” Daniels said, firm. She grabbed his arms with the baton and pulled it back. She looked at Walter giving him a cautionary gaze.

 

Jacob craned his neck around Daniels. “Maggie, are you alright?” He asked with a smudge of barbecue sauce on his mouth.

 

Maggie held up the empty flask. “No, sir. My flask is empty.” She giggled despite the situation and let her head roll back. “Take me to bed, Faris.” she pointed in the direction of their room.

 

“Yes, ma’am.” Faris tossed her up to strengthen his grip on her dainty frame. She was shorter than the other women on board, but certainly made up for it with her firecracker personality.

 

“Tennessee,” Jacob muttered. He retracted the baton looking Walter up and down. “And you, I told you to run diagnostics.” He tucked the stick in his rear pocket.

 

“Come on now, lay off Walter. Maggie and I have both gone to piss is all.” Faris nudged Maggie’s head against Walter. Walter smiled and started to sway with them, adjusting his programming. Walter decided that he liked Tennessee and Maggie—despite this, he still felt concern for her blood alcohol levels.

 

“He’s a cutie, Commander.” Maggie reached up and poked Walter in the cheek. Walter didn’t react to the poke. He instead turned his attention to Daniels.

 

“Goodnight, you two,” Jacob mumbled.

 

“Wait, hold up.” Maggie reached her hands into the air in a eureka moment. “Just think about it for a minute,” she nestled into her husband’s arms and started to twirl fingers around his chest hair that poked out through his stained t-shirt. “They could have made Walters ugly, right?” She flipped her head back again and looked at him upside down. “He’s even got a cute tush!” She pointed with both index fingers as Fair walked away.

 

Walter angled himself in an attempt to look back and examine his buttock, unsure what constituted as cute tush. “Have a good night in your sickbay.” He waved. His words triggered a howl of laughter from both Faris’.

 

Jacob looked to Daniels and then to Walter. “You can retire for the night, Walter.” He then pointed back to the mess hall. “Come on, Dani. I’m determined to murder the ribs.”

 

Walter bowed his head. He listened as Daniels and Jacob made their way back into the mess hall. A series of rejoices from the others echoed into a muffled murmur as the door slid shut. He was alone again—not that it phased him.

 

Walter walked around the ship a lot. He tracked his steps and determined that he could walk the circumference of the Earth several times over by walking laps of Mother during the time he would soon spend awake while the others slept. It would help pass the time—not that it phased him.

 

Walter didn’t sleep, so he spent dormant hours in the greenhouses. The rose house was the first of nearly two hundred greenhouses filled with vegetation. The first fifty were to be cultivated and prepared for circumstances of crew awakening. It also gave him time to speak and entertain something that wasn’t Mother.

 

Walter liked spending time with the plants. He could speak his engineered mind with them. He had read and old Earth article that mentioned plants responded well when spoken to by other living beings.

 

_Were Walters living—_

 

Walter faltered for a moment; he wanted to ask himself a question he wasn’t allowed to. With a sigh, he pushed the thought aside.

 

“Walter, are you in here?” A beautiful voice asked.

 

“Yes, by the roses.” He smiled and bowed his head.

 

“I’m full, unbelievably full.” She grabbed her belly. “I think I’m pregnant.” She groaned and placed several white containers she was carrying on a metal bench.

 

Walter hustled from the row of roses and waved his hand over her. “I’m afraid that’s not the case.” He kept a neutral expression, unsure if she would be disappointed by this news. “Are you trying to become pregnant? It’s my duty to inform you that pregnancy would make you unfit to make the initial launch.” He dropped his head, appearing relieved. “We would have had to immediately prep you for deep sleep.” He placed a hand on her belly, feeling her stomach muscles tighten at his touch.

 

Daniels rolled her head back in joyful laughter. She took Walter’s hand and squeezed it. “No, a food baby.” She brushed a happy tear from her eye.

 

“I don’t think that’s how the human reproductive system works, Daniels.” He mumbled. “I can provide instruction and information on the topic if it’s desired.” He took a seat on the bench and Daniels joined him.

 

“Thank you, Walter. I’ll let you know if it’s needed,” she giggled.

 

“Though, I imagine Jacob Branson is a capable—“

 

A new wave of laughter silenced the synthetic. Walter wasn’t trying to be funny, why had he made so many of the humans laugh this evening? He furrowed his brows as his system ran probable consultations.

 

“Walter, here,” she sighed back another wave of laughter as she handed him the stack of containers filled with food that she had gathered. “Some of us thought you should enjoy your last Earth meal too.”

 

“Oh,” he cracked the lids and looked at everything. “The processed food isn’t good for my dermis and life fluids.” He pointed to the one filled with fast food hamburgers and what appeared to me a melting milkshake with cookie chunks and sprinkles mixed into it.

 

“Oh, it isn't good for my dermis and life fluids either.” She snorted back another fit of the giggles.

 

“This is very kind of you,” he warned and his programming stirred. He took the containers and balanced them in his lap. “Would you like some? I can appreciate the tastes, but I’m not sure I can love or miss the contents as much as you will.”

 

He looked at one container filled with various types of sushi and another with a large roll stuffed with thinly sliced processed beef. Mixed with it were caramelized onions and swirls of a creamy melted cheese. He picked up the roll. “A cheesesteak,” he nodded. Walter took a slow, deep breath inhaling the scent. “Best paired with curly fries and a beverage. A cola or a wheat beer.” He didn’t notice any drinks apart from the milkshake.

 

“No beer, but I have some vodka that Maggie just slipped into my shirt pocket.” She pulled out two small vials filled with clear liquid.

 

“Vodka, indeed.” Walter took the glass tube and examined the conspicuous container.

 

“Do a shot with me?” she asked.

 

Walter wondered if there should be cause for concern. This was the third human drinking against direct orders that he had encountered in less than an hour. The commander’s wife no less. He concluded that it had been a wise decision of Commander Branson to ban the substance during regular hours.

 

“Daniels, it’s my duty to inform you that alcohol is prohibited in my presence,” he instructed. “That said, if you would like the comradery, I can drink.” He shoved the cheesesteak into his mouth.

 

He swallowed and popped the plastic plug as Daniels smiled at him. He sniffed and pulled his head back. If he had been human, he questioned if his nose hair would have been burned off. The proof so high, it might as well have been rubbing alcohol rather than vodka.

 

“To you, Walter.” Daniels glowed and held her hand out, offering to toast him.

 

“And to you, Daniels.” Walter grinned and brought the vial to his lips.

 

“Walter, no!” she hissed.

 

He pulled back and frowned. “Have I done something wrong?” He examined the vial for a crack or chip.

 

“You have to make eye contact when you toast someone. It’s bad luck.” Daniels hushed. “Seven years of bad sex.” She nudged him with her elbow.

 

Walter nodded, not sure how or why missing eye contact while making a toast with vodka resulted in terrible intercourse, but nonetheless, he pulled his face back from her mouth and drew himself close to her. He liked that she enjoyed being this physically close to him, a synthetic.

 

“To you, Daniels.” Walter lowered his tone, his jaw flexing as he examined every fleck of color and variance in her eyes.

 

Daniels pulled back from his intense gaze, taken aback by the sudden shift in Walters tone. There was something sultry to it. “To you, Walter.” she managed.

 

They clinked vials, and he watched as she drank it back in one swallow. He did the same but made sure to redirect the toxins from his necessary vital systems. He adjusted and his face flushed to imitate intoxication. His eyes studied her lips as she rolled them in and licked the droplet of vodka off of them.

 

“I’ll take the food to my room?” he asked. “You should probably retire to yours with Commander Branson.” He placed the contains on the bench and stood, gesturing her to the door. His programming was overcome by synthetic excitement and curiosity to try the contents she had provided for him.

 

“Goodnight, Walter.” she squeezed his bicep, making him flex on reflex.

 

“Daniels,” he nodded and wrapped his arms around her, tugging her close into a meaningful embrace. Walter pressed his head into her neck. "Goodnight," he exhaled, feeling the tiny hairs on her neck bristle. Her body was warm, and much to his surprise, she relaxed into him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Walter's got it bad for Daniels and is enjoying his humans. Keep the comments and feedback coming. I hope you didn't mind the bit of Jake/Dani.


	3. Flesh of a Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walter feels the need to apologize for his hasty embrace. He must have held her too tight, what if they shut him down? In a panic he disobey's order and heads to the human living quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone loving the story and giving feedback, thank you! The support is so wonderful.  
> Hopefully, this chapter makes up for the delay in posting. I had some writers block and a several day migraine to work through.

Fleeing the greenhouse shortly after his human companion, Walter hastily placed the food containers outside of his living quarters. Weyland had designed the ship to keep him as far away from the humans as possible He took a single piece of chocolate labeled ‘special dark’ and savored every morsel of it. It was labeled special, so it must be substantial and therefore savored.

 

  
The hallways set for evening light were poorly lit, but a series of solar runners provided enough light for a human to make their way down the corridor at a leisurely pace. Walter adjusted the optics in his eyes accordingly, allowing him to view further than his human companions ever could.

 

Walter walked down the long corridor from the cargo bay to the crew living quarters. Unless instructed, they forbid visitation to this wing during after hours, though there were cases of emergent circumstances. Walter grappled with the risks of being caught. He would defend himself by just stating that he was concerned about the blood alcohol levels of the Faris’ and commander’s wife.

 

He took advantage of the long journey across the ship and reflected on his embrace of Daniels. I held her too tight.

 

He thought over the action, analyzing the recorded memory of her face and how the capillaries in her cheeks had swelled making her face flush. There were several probable causes— _romance, strangulation, suffocation, fever_ —statistically speaking, he had more than likely hugged a bit too tight, and for too long causing her face to redden. He would have to apologize to her sooner rather than later. There was now a risk of emergent shut down and replacement.

_I’ll never see the stars up close._ Walter’s inquisitive face dropped. Flipping his hoodie up around his head, he quickened his pace as he turned from B desk and headed up the metal ladder to A deck. 

 

* * *

 

Walter knew the order and placement of each room by heart, not based on memory, but programming. He closed his engineered blue eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. Walter slowed his pace as he approached the Branson's room. He had to think over his actions carefully, Jacob wasn't fond of his kind, and now Daniels might be upset.

 

"Jake," a quiet gasp and rustling movement came from behind the large metal hatch. The room designed as an escape pod had a well insulated outer shell. All of the rooms were sound proofed— _to humans._

 

Walter stepped closer and waved his hand over a small glass display panel.

 

"Access deigned," the droll, robotic voice of Mother quietly spoke from the small two-way speaker panel above the screen. He was thankful she hadn't announced that throughout the entire loading craft.

 

Walter's shoulders dropped as the rustling from within picked up into a rhythm turning into a fast-paced thumping that stirred something in his programming. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he hesitated as he heard Daniels cry out. His programming told him that she wasn't in pain, she was enjoying herself.

 

"Dani, fuck...!" Jacob Branson exclaimed in a thick, gruff shout. His hand slapped against some part of Daniels flesh.

 

Walter swallowed the lump in his throat and looked down at the floor where the seal of the escape pod was most noticeable. Unsure how to approach the situation, he pressed his forehead to the hatch door and raised right hand, allowing his fingertips to graze over the cold metal surface. He could feel himself swell despite fighting the programming.

 

"Walter?" Karine Oram's voice was feminine and gentle. "It's after hours, is everything alright?" She was barefoot, her hair wet from a recent shower dripped onto her collarbone and left wet spots on the white, silk robe she had tied loosely around her.

 

Walter dropped his hand and stepped away from the Branson room. He didn't respond, unsure of what to do now. He wanted to apologize, but not to Karine. Her husband was Christopher Oram, a religious man who had the opposite personality of Jacob Branson, but the same opposing views when it came to Synthetics.

 

"My mistake," he managed. Walter lowered his head, avoiding eye contact and stepped back a bit further.

 

"Why are you here?" she asked.

 

"I needed to apologize to Daniels Branson." He blurted as his programming got the better of him.

 

"Is there an emergency?" She placed a hand on her left hip as she approached him. Walter noticed the small stun baton in her pocket and gulped.

 

This was it; he would be shut down before he ever had a chance to be a part of their crew, have a human family. He wouldn't even have the honor of being shut down by his imprinted companion.

 

"To me it is," he nodded looking away from Karine as he heard Daniels through the door.

 

"There! Right there!" Daniels insisted, her voice needy and breathy. Walter scuffed his shoes against the grated floor, trying to ignore Daniels' voice as Jacob brought her to orgasm.

 

Karine reached up and pressed a finger under his chin tilting his head up. "Has someone given you alcohol?" Karine cupped his face and raised Walter's eyelids, turning his head up to catch the light of the runners. The dilatation of his pupils was evidence of his condition enough.

 

"Vodka," he nodded. "Daniels and I drank some." Walter looked toward the hatch as the thumping subsided. He could barely make out the sound of Jacob's kisses, but in the room, they would be loud and sloppy. Walter would kiss her deeply with the heated passion from their lovemaking if—if what? Walter pulled his hoodie down, startled by his own thoughts. _I am drunk._

 

"Well, no wonder your emergent readings are malfunctioning," she gave him a half-turned smile, relaxing. "Get some rest; your system can't handle proofs over 40. The alcoholic affects you like it would a human." She gave him a shove on the shoulder. Walter's footing gave easily, but he didn't fall.

 

"I'll go back to my room." He bowed formally to her. "Thank you, Karine."

 

"Have a pleasant evening, Walter." She waved him away. "Hurry back to your room before my husband finds you!" Karine whispered and winked as she pressed her palm to the digital display and unlocked the door for herself and walked to her room.

 

* * *

 

 

  
The weight of his intoxication sank in as Walter stood in the doorway of his room clutching the containers Daniels had provided. With his head cocked to the side and let out a quiet sigh of programmed contentment. It might have been a very long day and a surprisingly eventful evening, but overall proved the most rewarding of his programmed existence to date.

 

He found kindness in some of the crew— _Daniels _especially__. He adjusted his grip on the containers and stepped into his bedroom.

 

  
A single step was all it took to be fully inside the small living quarters Weyland provided Synthetics. Comparative to that of his human companions it was inadequate.

 

"It's very nice, for a twentieth-century closet." Chris Oram said to him earlier in passing.

 

Walter focused on Oram's sarcastic opinion of his room as he scanned over the space now in the night. Weyland and the crew had been generous enough to give him a small porthole that would soon grant him access to the stars and vastness of space when he sought solace in the confines of his closet...room.

 

Walter shook his head, ridding himself of the fleeting disappointment. He couldn't ask for more—programming forbids it. With a nod to himself, he carefully placed the stacks of food on his cushioned bench. It doubled as a spare bed; he would use it during his body diagnostic scans, program upgrades, and perhaps for listening to music.

 

Furthest back there were a series of drawers for storage and a glass display panel that connected him with Mother and the rest of the crew on Covenant.

 

Walter removed his hoodie and neatly folded it into the drawer with others precisely folded. The moonlight from the porthole accented his toned arms and abdomen, not that he had anyone to share his features with as Daniels and Jacob did. He brushed his hands down his chest removing spare lint fibers that had shed from the new garment.

 

Once settled into his space, he began to examine the contents of each container. His core warmed as he found a note from Maggie and Tennessee listing in what order he should consume their two bottles filled with primarily fried foods. A thick and creamy potato salad, butter soaked seafood, a venison stew, and then a desert container with cobbler and several slices of pie.

 

 

 

>  
> 
> **Walter,**  
>  **You might be a robot, but you're our robot. Enjoy this fine country dining in this order, and this order only. Potato Salad with the seafood, stew with the biscuits on top, and then the desert in the order of your choice.**

 

Feeling the buzz from the Vodka he shoved the food into his face faster than most humans were capable of consuming it. The flavors were varying, but his programming enjoyed every morsel of it. Daniels had given him barbecue delicacies, more alcohol, and a milkshake that had melted into a thick liquid muck and fries that were now soggy.

 

He ate it all. With a huff and flopped back onto his bench bringing his arms up behind his head he looked up through the window. The moon was just overhead shining down. It was a full moon that allowed the colonized city to be visible from Earth with the naked eye. He smiled as the vibrant array of colorful lights from the largest crater glistened down at him.

 

Synthetics had no need for sleep, but if Walter were capable, it would be the slumber of a man restless in thought. Ruthlessly spending the night overthinking the sensations of the warmth of human skin against his own; the flesh of a woman. The curve of her waistline as his hand ran down her back, resting on her hips briefly before releasing her when she pulled away.

 

It had only been a hug. It was the most tender and intimate affection any of the humans had shown toward him thus far, even more so than Maggie's playful drunk kisses. Walter thought over the meaning of the embrace. More importantly, what did that mean to Daniels Branson? He concluded he had hugged her too tight, but what if he had aroused her?

 

He closed his eyes replaying the sounds of her shouts and moans, omitting Jacob from the fantasy. He replayed the feeling of her skin to his own, drifting his hands across his chest and then drifted his fingers overtop his groin. He wasn't capable of dreaming or visualizing sexual fantasies, but he could replay his physical and visual experiences. It was enough to pleasure himself.

 

Walter flipped back the fabric to his pants and gripped himself with both hands. Biting his lip, he wanted to kiss her, kiss her skillfully and heatedly.

 

"Dani," Walter groaned working himself skillfully. "Fuck, right there!" He mimicked the words of the two lovers as he arched himself back, bucking his hips and tightly clenching jaw as every engineered sensory neuron fired off at once. Jerking himself with desperation he quickly poured life fluid from the head of his throbbing cock spilling onto his hands as he came. Walter stifled back a mournful cry of extasy, his face red his chest heaving as he panted. Trembling he rolled onto his side tucking himself back into his pants and cleaning himself with a fabric napkin.

 

Synthetics were often forbidden to pleasure themselves unless approached by a human companion who sought them out for sex themselves. He wanted to pleasure Daniels in every humanly way possible. He would be a better lover than a human— _a simple scan of her anatomy and biologic needs would set programming skillset from dutiful colonization synthetic to an able and pleasurable one._

 

Walter rolled his lower lip in and shut his eyes tight wishing he could visualize her body beneath himself his body dipping on top of her as he made love to her. He grazed his fingers overtop of his softening penis, and his whole body shuddered from sensitive pleasure. Who would program him with such capability? Walter sucked in a sharp breath shivering. Walter reprogrammed himself to warm his core and gasped away the empty loneliness that washed over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep the feedback coming! Next chapter is the launch into space. I'm going to merge this piece into the arch of the film. There will be a chapter of everyone in hypersleep and then I believe I'll jump to the introduction of David.


End file.
